Not Just My Wingman
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: Kurt H. and Blaine A. are roommates living in the loft together after Blaine graduates from high school. Kurt is determined he's over Blaine and tries to help him get a date…or ultimately get laid. But when Blaine succeeds in finding a guy that's actually interested in him, will Kurt realize he wasn't as over Blaine as he thought?Cute and fluffy. Futurefic, AU, angst, hurt/comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Tumblr prompt - Where Kurt and Blaine go out club hopping as friends, with each other as their wingman. "I'd like them to kinda be like 'well, we're pretty dumb for not realizing how back together we are' or something, and ultimately get back together. Maybe someone points out that they're basically together again…" Passing mention of Rachel and Santana, but they don't live at the loft. Also, the bedrooms in the loft are actual rooms with doors._

Blaine shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans, shivering against the cold regardless of his thick, wool peacoat and double-layered wool socks. He stole a sidelong glance at Kurt, virtually gliding down the icy sidewalk in his chocolate brown Marc Jacobs trench, a tartan scarf wrapped stylishly around his long neck, looking utterly unphased by the stinging cold.

"H-how are you not fr-freezing?" Blaine asked in awe.

Kurt sniffed, holding his head higher.

"Shivering is unattractive, so I simply don't do it," he replied, looking down at his friend. Kurt smirked as a sudden breeze made Blaine tremble almost violently.

"But it's cute when you do it," Kurt revised quickly.

Blaine huffed.

"You don't have to patronize me," Blaine said, pouting, sticking out his lower lip and turning his face haughtily away.

Kurt nudged Blaine with his shoulder, and Blaine smiled.

Kurt sighed.

It was almost heartbreaking how much Blaine's crooked little smile could still melt his heart, but he tried not to let it get to him too much. They were friends…the best of friends…and they were in a good place in their current relationship, as evidenced by the night's little excursion.

They walked along in silence, trying to ignore the tiny bit of unexpected tension building up between them.

"This isn't going to make things awkward, right?" Blaine asked.

"No," Kurt said, waving a dismissive hand in front of his face and trying to make a convincing enough lie. "Of course not. We talked about this. It's time, Blaine. Time for you to get out of the loft and meet some people."

"But, I know people," Blaine argued. "I know you, and Rachel, and Santana. That's…three people…"

"_More_ people," Kurt emphasized. They reached the Club Amnesia, and stopped right outside the door. Kurt pulled up Blaine's collar and flattened down his hair. Blaine's eyes glittered up at Kurt, and a lump formed in his throat. Kurt forced a smile, looking boldly back into Blaine's hazel eyes.

"There you are, Mr. Incredible," Kurt said. "Now let's go inside. Everyone's going to love you."

* * *

Kurt dragged Blaine to the bar. He ordered Blaine a beer and a martini for himself. Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Kurt asked taking a sip. "It's just the one."

Blaine turned around and scoped out the pickings on the dance floor. They hadn't chosen a 'gay' club, per se, but there were plenty of sexy men grinding with each other out on the dance floor, and Blaine suddenly felt encouraged.

"I think I'm going to hit the dance floor," Blaine yelled over the music.

Kurt nodded, taking a final sip of his drink.

"I think I'll go with you."

Kurt and Blaine made their way to the crowded floor, dancing to the rhythm as they fought to get to a corner where a large group of men gyrated and moved almost in a wave together.

Immediately, a tall, brunette man wrapped his arm around Kurt. His hooded green eyes stared down the length of Kurt's body as he pulled him in close.

"Hey, gorgeous," the man whispered into Kurt's ear. "Want to dance?"

"I think we already are," Kurt shot back with a flirty laugh.

Blaine rolled his eyes and turned away, his face getting hot, but he convinced himself it was just the rise in temperature from the bodies moving so close together on the dance floor.

"Hey, shorty," a good-natured voice said to Blaine's left. Blaine turned to see a gorgeous man beckoning him over. He was African-American, seriously muscular, with closely cropped hair, a thin layer of black liner around his eyes, and a tight t-shirt that left little of his upper body to the imagination.

Blaine was momentarily stunned into silence.

"Uh…" Blaine stammered, pointing to himself.

"Yeah, you," the man said with a smile, flashing the whitest teeth Blaine had ever seen. "It seems like your date ditched you."

"Oh…Kurt?" Blaine looked over his shoulder to where Kurt was rolling his hips back against the nameless man. "He's not my date. We're just…friends."

Blaine swallowed the bitter taste of that word in his mouth.

"Good." The man reached out his hand and took Blaine's, grabbing only his fingertips and pulling him close.

_Just the touch of the fingertips…_

Blaine took one last look at Kurt before joining the man on the other side of the dance floor.

"My name's DeLeon," the man said, shaking Blaine's hand.

"Blaine."

"Well, Blaine, are you here for business or pleasure?" DeLeon said with a smile as he tried to encourage Blaine to dance.

Blaine's expression went completely blank, and DeLeon laughed.

"I'm just joking. I'm a flight attendant. I ask people that a lot."

"So, you don't live in New York?" Blaine asked, subconsciously looking over his shoulder and checking for Kurt. He could barely make out the top of Kurt's head as he bounced around to the upbeat music.

"No," DeLeon replied. "This is just a layover."

Blaine nodded, shuffling his feet, looking uncomfortably at his partner.

DeLeon looked over Blaine's shoulder, to the tall, thin man Blaine kept searching out every minute or so.

"Here's a question for you, Blaine," DeLeon asked. "Why are you dancing with me when it's obvious you would rather be somewhere else?"

Blaine sighed.

"I don't…I mean, we're…"

"Let me guess," DeLeon interrupted. "You dated, one of y'all cheated, and now you're best friends. From that pining look in your eyes I'd say he cheated…"

"Actually…" Blaine looked down at his feet, which had given up on keeping any kind of beat and just moved back and forth, "_I_…cheated…"

"Yikes." DeLeon sighed.

"Yeah, and we're cool now and all, but I don't think he's ever forgiven me…not really…"

"Well, you need to make up your mind what you really want then," DeLeon said. "You need to fight for your guy or move on."

Blaine nodded again, looking back up to meet DeLeon's warm, brown eyes.

"Here's your chance." DeLeon gestured with his chin behind Blaine. Blaine saw Kurt, cutting through the crowd with his new friend in tow. Blaine felt a light tickle on his hip and looked down to see DeLeon sliding his business card into Blaine's pocket.

"If you're looking to move on," DeLeon said, "give me a call." He turned and walked into the crowd just as Kurt reached him.

"Hey!" Kurt's cheek looked painted red from dancing, and he sounded giddy. "Listen!"

Blaine stopped his pathetic shuffling side to side to pay attention to the song, which had changed.

"Dancing Queen!" Kurt crowed. "Remember?"

How could Blaine forget. Prom. Just another night when Blaine had danced with Kurt, except at Prom, Blaine could call Kurt his boyfriend. Now, it just seemed like a cruel reminder.

"Dance with us!"

Kurt pulled Blaine into their little circle, oblivious to the sour face of his companion.

"This is Seth, by the way."

Blaine's eyes darted up at Seth, and he could have sworn Seth growled at him.

Blaine turned back to Kurt, who smiled at him in a way Blaine hadn't seen since before they had broken up, and that's all it took to get him moving. The hypnotic music drew them together more than once, and it wasn't until nearly three songs later that they realized Seth had taken off, and they were dancing together.

"Uh, what the fuck!" Kurt exclaimed when he saw his dancing partner talking up another man at the bar.

Blaine wasn't too upset.

"I think we're giving people the wrong idea," Blaine offered. "I think everyone might think we're here together."

Kurt looked confused for a moment, then nodded dramatically.

"Ohhh," he said as realization hit him. "Yeah. You're right. Let's split up."

Kurt patted Blaine on the back cheerfully and bounced away.

That wasn't the answer he had been hoping for.

* * *

"So then my fifth cat got hit by a truck, and I realized that maybe a cat isn't the best pet to have in a big city like New York, so I got a parakeet, and I named him Pete…Pete the parakeet. Get it?"

Chandler giggled animatedly at his own joke while Blaine nodded, blinking his heavy eyes in an attempt to stay awake. Chandler seemed nice enough at first, and moderately handsome. Truth be told, he was a little too thin, a little too angular, and his complexion was a little too ruddy, but he had reminded Blaine of Kurt. Chandler had cornered Blaine by one of the smaller tables lining the dance floor, and now, almost an hour later, was jabbering endlessly about his various pets, plus their pros and cons. They had gone through fish and hamsters, had moved on to cats, and now apparently were at birds. Blaine sighed, wondering how many more animals Chandler might have killed since moving to New York, since that seemed to be how all his stories ended.

"But then he died…"

_'And that makes 17,'_ Blaine thought.

Blaine took a quick peek around the bar and spotted Kurt talking to a handsome, muscular man with stylishly messy dirty blonde hair, wearing form fitting black jeans and a violet, button down shirt tucked in. Blaine swallowed hard, watching Kurt roll his eyes flirtatiously, laughing a little too hard, resting his hand on the man's arm a little too long. A lump formed in his chest. He tried his hardest to push it down, but it wouldn't budge.

Blaine forced a smile.

_'Good for him,'_ Blaine thought, grinding his teeth subconsciously. He wanted to be happy for his ex-boyfriend.

Kurt turned to order another drink and Blaine saw the man reach into his pocket, and pull something out. Then he reached for Kurt's glass. Blaine's eyes narrowed as he peered at the closed fist hover over Kurt's drink, watched something small drop into the liquid and sink straight to the bottom.

"One minute," Blaine said curtly, not even turning to see the crestfallen expression on his Chandler's face.

"So, NYADA…" Blaine could hear the man cooing as Kurt leaned in close, giggling flirtatiously, drink now in hand, "I bet that's…"

Blaine grabbed Kurt's drink and slid it across the counter. He stepped in between the two men, glaring daggers into the taller stranger's brown eyes.

"Get out of here," Blaine threatened darkly.

"What the fuck, hobbit!" the man yelled incredulously. "You're messing with my game!"

"Blaine!" Kurt barked. "What are you…"

"He put something in your drink, Kurt," Blaine said, not risking taking his eyes off the other man for a moment. "I saw him."

Kurt stepped back a bit, mouth hanging in shock.

"What…are you delusional?" the man defended. "I would never…"

"Then drink it." Blaine motioned to the drink with a tilt of his head. The man turned and looked at the abandoned martini sitting on the counter. The bartender looked at it, too.

"I don't really like gin martinis," the man said firmly.

"Take a sip," the bartender commanded. "Or am I going to have to call the cops?"

The man looked from the martini, to the bartender, and then to Blaine. He slammed his hand down on the bar.

"Fine," he said, sliding off his bar stool and standing. He shoved a twenty in the direction of the bartender and walked away muttering.

"Little slut wasn't worth a five dollar martini anyway…"

Kurt gasped. Blaine turned and looked into Kurt's wide, ice blue eyes. Kurt dropped his head, thoroughly humiliated.

"Hey…" Blaine put a reassuring hand on Kurt's arm, rubbing gently. "Are you okay?"

"No," Kurt answered truthfully. "I was almost drugged, and that Neanderthal called me a slut…"

Kurt glanced over to Blaine's table and the forgotten companion glaring in their direction.

"But I'll be fine," Kurt reassured him. "I think someone's waiting for you."

Blaine followed Kurt's line of sight and saw angry blue eyes staring at him.

"Oh…yeah." Blaine turned back to Kurt.

"I'll be okay," Kurt repeated with a weak smile. "Go talk to your friend."

Blaine trudged halfheartedly back to the table, trying to fix the sullen pet-killer waiting for him with a sincere smile, but his head started to pound.

"What the hell was all that about?" Chandler griped.

"Oh, I was just helping a friend…"

"I see." Chandler tapped his foot petulantly. "He looks like more than a friend, actually. Are you going home with _him_ then?"

Blaine frowned at Chandler's scowl.

"Well," Blaine said sluggishly, his head spinning as the adrenaline levels in his body plummeted, "I kind of have to. We live together…"

Before Blaine could stop it, something wet and cold hit him in the face.

* * *

Blaine's recollection of the evening was fuzzy at best. He vaguely remembered having a drink tossed in his face, the sugary liquid dripping down his brow and into his eyes. He felt comforting arms wrap around him from behind, pressing a napkin into his hand. While he wiped the dripping liquid from his skin, soft lips pressed against his neck. A warm, silky tongue collected the drops he hadn't reach and licked them away. He turned in the embrace, and captured a pair of startled lips, not caring for the moment whose they were. He needed solace. He needed another human to connect with. The night had become too much to bear.

He felt himself dragged back to the dance floor. Lady Gaga pounded out of the speakers overhead. Another body moved with his to the relentless beat of the music.

_'I live for the applause, applause, applause,_

_I live for the applause-plause_

_Live for the applause-plause…'_

Hands squeezed his ass roughly, kissed him mercilessly.

He left the club with someone that night.

After that, he didn't remember much else.

Blinking his eyes, painfully adjusting to the low light of what he knew was his own bed by the smell of the sheets and the comforting feel of his Sobakawa pillow cradling his head, Blaine moved slowly. A tangle of limbs kept him locked into place and he smiled.

He had done it. He got himself laid. It was a bit of a bittersweet victory, but he had gotten Kurt out of his system long enough to let someone else in.

This could be the start of something beautiful.

_Please, God, don't let it be Chandler._

Blaine rejected the idea of getting out of bed in favor of turning around in the arms that held him tight, and coming face to face with the man who might help him mend the holes that were left when he and Kurt had decided not to pursue a romantic relationship.

Wide, panic-stricken eyes greeted him; familiar blue eyes that he had woken up to dozens of times before.

Eyes he saw in his dreams.

Eyes he even saw in some nightmares.

Blaine had no idea what to say.

"Uh…" Blaine stuttered, looking for something deep, romantic, emotional, ground breaking to say.

He failed spectacularly.

"Did this get awkward?" Blaine asked finally.

"Yeah…" Kurt ran a hand through his mussed hair and sighed. "It got awkward."


	2. Chapter 2

"Kurt!" Blaine called as Kurt sprinted from the bed, gathering up abandoned articles of clothing and holding them in front of him, trying hard to hide the rapidly growing flush of humiliation that spread like a virus over his whole body. Kurt cringed as he rescued his favorite McQueen sweater from a pile on the floor. He must have been really drunk or…or just plain out of his mind if he left his McQueen bunched up like that. Flashbacks of Blaine literally tearing the sweater up over Kurt's head and throwing it carelessly to the ground filled Kurt's memory, and he was pissed to discover what an amazing memory it was. With alcohol flowing through his body, lowering his inhibitions, every emotion he had carefully suppressed rose to the surface. That undeniable pull Blaine always seemed to have on him returned.

Kurt had watched a freakishly flamboyant blond man toss his drink in Blaine's face, saw Blaine's shoulders slump in defeat, and Kurt's heart broke. Kurt had done this. He had forced Blaine out to the bar, had tried so hard to get him laid, but in the end he realized it was to further his own agenda, not to help Blaine. Seeing Blaine in the loft every day, sometimes half-dressed and sweaty after working out, not really knowing the effect it had on Kurt, was becoming torture. Even with remnants of pina colada dripping down his face, Blaine was still the charming schoolboy Kurt had fallen in love with…the one who shattered his heart.

Kurt realized he was partly to blame.

But he couldn't think about that right now, or he'd be in danger of falling into bed with Blaine again.

"Kurt! I think we should…"

"Should what?" Kurt bellowed in a wobbly voice. He hurried to his room, feet pattering across the cold floor. "Talk about this?" Kurt's voice echoed in his own head like a gong, but he was beyond caring about the intense throbbing or the ringing in his ears. Instead, he spoke louder, hoping that Blaine's head ached even half as much during his high-pitched rant. "That is exactly what I _don't_ want to do!"

Kurt stepped through his bedroom door and slammed it with unnecessary force, smiling triumphantly with the thought that the nausea-inducing clamor would make Blaine back off.

Blaine put a hand to his head, wishing the room would stop spinning.

"Still…" Blaine persisted, "I think talking is a…"

"Good idea?" Kurt finished. He emerged from his room wrapped in a robe, carrying his toiletry bag in one hand. "No, no, no! That is a terrible idea! A horrible idea! The worst idea ever in the history of all ideas on this planet…"

Kurt took a good look at Blaine for the first time and noticed that his ex was still completely naked. Kurt huffed, averting his eyes dramatically, and headed for the bathroom.

"Kurt…" Blaine wanted Kurt to stop ranting and settle down long enough to talk this through with him, to see that this wasn't the nightmare that Kurt made it out to be, but Kurt couldn't seem to stop talking.

"People always think that talking things out is the ultimate solution, but it's not," Kurt rambled on. "You just dredge up old headaches and relive old mistakes…"

The word 'mistakes' stopped both men in their tracks. Blaine looked down at his feet, shame coloring his face. Kurt felt a thousand apologies clogging his throat, trying desperately to find a way out. But Kurt didn't dare apologize. If Blaine thought for a second that Kurt approved of them sleeping together, he might get false hope.

"I just finished getting over you," Kurt said softly. "I finally got to a place where thinking about you didn't make me want to crawl into a hole and die. A place where we could be friends…where we could still go ahead with our plans together without _being_ together…"

Kurt couldn't look into Blaine's eyes – his intoxicating, caramel-colored eyes that had most likely gone puppy-dog wide and sad, imploring Kurt to change his mind.

Blaine looked down at his feet when he realized Kurt had made up his mind. Blaine knew the firm set of Kurt's jaw, and the way he held his head high, nose slightly raised meant he had no intention of being swayed. His decision was final.

"Okay," Blaine said softly, backing away. "Okay."

Kurt heard the defeat in Blaine's voice, and a small piece of him tore away, but he couldn't backpedal now. He hurried into the bathroom and shut the door, immediately turning on the shower water so Blaine wouldn't hear him cry.

Blaine dragged himself back to his room and closed the door. He picked up his clothes, shaking out the wrinkles and hanging each piece up in his wardrobe. A small, white business card fell from the pocket of his jeans and fluttered to the floor. Blaine barely recognized it. He bent down and picked it up, and suddenly what he could remember of last night came flooding back.

DeLeon…the man with the come hither brown eyes and the infectious smile. The one who had invited him out if Blaine ever changed his mind.

Blaine read over the card until he had the name and phone number memorized before he decided to call. He grabbed his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and dialed the number.

His heart raced, and for a second Blaine questioned if this was really a good idea.

"Hello?" a deep, smooth voice answered after the second ring.

"Hello? DeLeon?" Blaine asked, hoping he wasn't making a colossal fool out of himself. "My name's Blaine. We met at the club last night…"

"I remember you," DeLeon said. Blaine detected a definite smile in the man's velvety voice, along with just a hint of an exotic accent that Blaine hadn't noticed over the pounding music of the club. "How may I help you?"

Blaine cleared his throat.

"Well, I was just wondering…did you still want to go out with me?"

"Hmmm," DeLeon hummed. "Sounds interesting. What did you have in mind?"

Blaine started to pace nervously while he spoke, eyes closed so he could focus on the voice over the phone.

"I was thinking maybe dinner. Tonight, if possible."

Blaine found himself holding his breath, listening for the sound of the shower water to make sure Kurt didn't walk in and take him by surprise.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," DeLeon said. Then, after a beat, he added, "Just you and me, right?"

Blaine laughed in spite of himself.

"Yes, of course," Blaine said. "Just you and me."

"Great." DeLeon chuckled. "But let me make you something. I eat at too many restaurants. It would be nice to just stay in. Is that all right?"

Blaine's heart skipped for a few seconds before he realized he hadn't answered out loud.

"Yes. Yes, that's fine."

Another amused chuckle.

"Great. I'm at the Marriott downtown. Room 1218. I'll see you at 8."

"Eight is great." Blaine cringed at the unintended rhyme.

"Well, I'll see you and _just_ you at eight o'clock then."

"Sh-should I bring anything?" Blaine asked, hating the stutter in his voice.

"Mmmm, maybe some wine?" DeLeon's voice had a slight suggestion in it. "Goodbye, Blaine."

"Bye." Blaine cursed at himself. He ended the call and tossed his phone on the bed, dropping down on the bed beside it.

He had a date.

A date with someone who wasn't Kurt.

A date with someone who wasn't Kurt in a hotel room downtown.

And now he had to go out and buy some wine.

Great.

* * *

"To tell you the truth, I'm really surprised you called, Blaine," DeLeon said, smiling wide and handing Blaine a glass of red wine. "Did you get things sorted out with your ex?"

Blaine took the glass and smiled, hoping that he looked suave and sophisticated instead of sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, yeah, we sort of did," Blaine replied, taking a sip of the fruity cabernet.

DeLeon raised a skeptical eyebrow at Blaine's response, but decided to let it go. Blaine's eyes swept the room from over his glass.

"This is an amazing suite," Blaine said, gesturing to the large space. "I didn't know flight attendants made so much money."

DeLeon shook his head, leading Blaine to the dinner table.

"Most don't," he explained, pulling out Blaine's for him. Blaine nodded in thanks as he settled into it, watching DeLeon walk to his side of the table and sit down. "I work for an independent airline. Only international flights. Very high class."

"I see." Blaine twirled a bit of spaghettini onto his fork and popped it into his mouth, DeLeon watching his fork with a hungry look. Blaine moaned the moment the rich sauce hit his tongue. "Oh my God! This is amazing."

"Thank you." DeLeon smiled, twirling his own fork in the pasta. "I picked up the recipe during a layover in Sicily."

Blaine shook his head in disbelief.

"It must be amazing," he commented, eagerly twirling more long noodles around his fork. "Traveling the world, seeing new things..."

"It is." DeLeon sighed, taking his bite of pasta and chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and took a sip of his wine. "At least, at first. After a while, things sort of bleed together, and it gets a little lonely."

Blaine's eyes flicked up to meet DeLeon's, but the man's gaze focused on his plate, his mind working around some thought he didn't feel the need to divulge. So Blaine filled the silence with anecdotes and stories about high school and his time in New York, worried that he wouldn't have much to say since he had to censor any mention of Kurt, and Kurt had been his whole world for so long. Soon, DeLeon was laughing more than eating, and sharing stories of his own – about the time he wanted to become a trapeze artist even though he is deathly afraid of heights, or the time he first tried to learn to cook and set the kitchen of a world famous restaurant on fire.

Almost two hours later, the laughter petered off, the bottle of wine was mostly gone, and the dregs of the pasta were ice cold.

"Why don't we move into the living room and watch some t.v.?" DeLeon suggested.

Blaine wiped his mouth one last time with his napkin and placed it on the table.

"Sounds like a plan."

They moved into the living room and sat on the leather sofa. DeLeon picked up the remote and switched on the large flat screen.

"I've spent the last three months in the air," DeLeon said, switching to the guide screen. "Has anything new and interesting come out since then?"

Blaine reached for the remote, fingertips brushing lightly over DeLeon's skin. DeLeon watched Blaine as he took the remote and quickly chose a movie from the screen, breath hitching in his throat at the way beautifully dapper young man moved – the way he chewed his lower lip while he read the screen, or the tiny sound of triumph he made when he figured out how the satellite remote worked. Blaine settled against the arm of the couch, and DeLeon slid down the cushion to sit close beside him. Blaine put an arm around him, and they melted together, not quite perfect, but close enough.

Over the course of the movie, Blaine's arm around DeLeon's shoulder was met with DeLeon's hand on Blaine's knee…and then a few innocent kisses on the cheek, followed by one on the neck, until the credits rolled and DeLeon sat straddled over Blaine's lap, sucking a mark just below his jaw.

"So," DeLeon whispered against Blaine's skin, "do you really need to go home tonight?"

Blaine bit his lip. He didn't know how to answer, so he didn't. Not right away. In all respects, DeLeon was a perfectly gorgeous man – handsome, strong, intelligent, witty…but he wasn't Kurt. Where DeLeon was muscular, Kurt was long and lean. DeLeon's cologne was spicy and a little overpowering, where Kurt always smelled warm and floral, like a light spring breeze. Watching DeLeon's dark skin shift as he moved to put his arms around him, he couldn't help but think of the contrast to Kurt's alabaster skin.

Blaine swallowed hard and shut his eyes, trying to will his thoughts of Kurt away.

"I…I guess I don't…" Blaine stuttered finally.

DeLeon smiled. He deftly undid the buckle to Blaine's belt and pulled it away. Blaine felt DeLeon travel down his body and wondered if he would ever be able to look Kurt in the eyes again.

* * *

It was well after six in the morning when Blaine finally made it back to the loft. He hoped and prayed that Kurt decided to sleep in. He usually didn't wake up for yoga until around 6:15, so maybe Blaine would just make it.

The door creaked open slowly and Blaine realized he would have no such luck.

Kurt sat on the couch, wrapped loosely in the throw off his bed, blood shot eyes trained on the door. Only then did Blaine realize Kurt hadn't slept all night.

"Uh, hey," Blaine started quietly, "why didn't you…"

"So, did you do it?" Kurt slurred. He tossed off the throw and stood from his seat on the couch, a bottle clutched in his fist. He swayed slightly as he tried to make his way towards Blaine. "Did you sleep with your little friend?"

Blaine's mouth dropped as Kurt examined him, walking around his body and peering at him in a way that unnerved him. Suddenly Kurt's eyes fixed on Blaine's neck and went wide.

"Oh ho ho!" Kurt crowed, pointing at Blaine's neck. "Lookey, lookey! Blaine's got a hickey!"

Blaine didn't know what to make of Kurt's display. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Red lines webbed out over the whites of his eyes, as if he had spent the night crying. He reeked of tequila from the half-empty bottle clutched in Kurt's grasp. Blaine was confused. He didn't understand why going out on a date would hurt Kurt's feelings. They had talked about it. Wasn't that what Kurt wanted?

Blaine sighed.

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "Yeah, I did."

Kurt's lazy smile slipped, his lips quivering, but he recovered quickly, smiling again, this time a little too brightly.

"Great!" he said, clapping Blaine on the back. "That is so great! Good for you, tiger."

Kurt spun around and headed quickly for his room, dropping the bottle of tequila along the way and slamming the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

For the remainder of the week, Kurt and Blaine barely saw each other, and they definitely didn't speak. Kurt left the loft earlier than necessary every morning to hide out at his favorite coffee house. They passed each other in the halls at school between classes, but never made eye contact. Blaine spent his nights with DeLeon since his days in New York were numbered. Soon he would be packing up and boarding a flight to London. After that, Blaine had no idea what would happen back at the loft. Would Kurt continue to ignore him?

Blaine even contemplated the possibility of moving, since he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, didn't want to keep forcing him to go to extraordinary lengths to avoid him. Blaine could very easily imagine Kurt hiding in the costume department at NYADA at night, or maybe the vault at Vogue so he wouldn't have to come home to a loft where Blaine was living.

DeLeon's last night in town, Blaine made an attempt to chip away at some of Kurt's carefully constructed armor by inviting him along to their Bon Voyage night out on the town.

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine begged, checking his watch for the twentieth time in the last five minutes, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Kurt as he shielded himself with the current issue of Vogue. "It's going to be a blast! I mean, you haven't gone out a single night this week."

"How would you know?" Kurt grumbled as he pretended to read an article on the resurgence of dyed faux fur accents. "You aren't even here at night anymore. I could be whoring myself out in your bedroom and you wouldn't have a clue."

"Kurt…I think I'd notice that," Blaine said with a chuckle, hoping that last comment was Kurt's attempt at diffusing a tense situation, but when Kurt didn't even crack a smile Blaine realized he was more bitter than amused. Kurt turned the page he had been glaring murderously at for the last three minutes even though he only read the headline and a few photo captions. "But, seriously," Blaine continued, "I think you'd have a great time."

Kurt scoffed, turning another unread page.

"Do you think I want to watch you and your stewardess friend pawing all over each other while I sit in a corner and sip Shirley Temples? If I want to watch porn, I can stream it off the Internet. I've been considering getting a Cockyboys membership, anyway."

Blaine rolled his eyes. Kurt and porn weren't exactly two words that one often uttered in the same sentence, but the thought of his straight laced ex sitting alone on the couch with a cheesecake in his lap, uncomfortably watching two guys going at it through the spaces between his fingers the way a little kid watches a slasher film, grabbed a hold of his heart and twisted hard.

Blaine almost offered to stay home instead. Sure DeLeon was leaving for London in the morning, but Blaine had spent quite a bit of time with him this week, and Blaine was sure he would understand.

Even if he didn't, would it matter? DeLeon was leaving, and who knew when he would be back in New York.

A sharp knock on the loft door ended the conversation quick since it slid open immediately after and DeLeon stepped in.

"Hey guys!" he called through the space. Blaine waved at the cheerful man headed his way. Blaine let his eyes drift briefly back to Kurt on the couch. In that small space of time that Blaine had turned his attention away, Kurt had huddled as close to the arm as possible with the throw around his shoulders wrapped tight, clutched in a fist that trembled slightly. He hunched down, burying himself deeper into an interview with Rihanna.

DeLeon sashayed up to Blaine, lacing a hand with his and kissing him on the corner of his mouth. Kurt groaned quietly, his nose sinking practically right into the seam of his magazine.

"Sorry for the intrusion," DeLeon nearly sang, and Kurt couldn't help but notice what an amazing tenor voice he had. He couldn't wait for them to leave so he could start his pity party. "But Blaine said the door is almost always unlocked and that I could come right in. How you guys get away with that out here in Brooklyn I'll never understand."

Kurt smiled begrudgingly, but didn't lift his eyes to acknowledge the couple.

DeLeon bent over low to try and catch Kurt's gaze. When he realized he wouldn't, he stood back up and smiled genuinely, trying to succeed where Blaine had failed.

"You know, for a fashion maven such as yourself, this look is a little low-key for the night we had in mind, Kurt."

Kurt harrumphed again, which made DeLeon only smile wider.

"He said no." Blaine gazed down plaintively at the rug beneath his feet. DeLeon looked from the disappointed man by his side to the stubborn one sitting on the couch staring at an ad for Dior.

"Well, too bad." DeLeon grabbed Kurt by the arm and dragged him to his feet. "It wasn't a request. So put on the sexiest thing you have, darling, because we are partying hardy with six of the hottest men who ever played for our team. Get a move on. You've got five minutes."

Kurt looked mortified at the dark-skinned man with tremendous biceps who practically lifted him into the air, but then his eyes caught sight of Blaine, still staring at his feet with a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

Kurt could never refuse that bashful smile.

But he wasn't going to pretend to be happy about it.

"Fine," he huffed. "But five minutes only gets you mildly sexy. If you want truly devastating, I'll need ten."

"Take your time then," DeLeon said, swatting Kurt on the backside. Kurt spun and glared, shooting daggers at both of them when they dissolved into giggles, turning in on one another like conspiratorial teenagers. Kurt stared at them a little longer than he should have because somewhere in his heart that he had let grow hard against any amount of Blaine's lingering love, a single sliver fractured off.

* * *

They took three subways uptown to a club Kurt had never been to before, but which DeLeon insisted was _the_ hangout for flight attendants when they hit the city.

Blaine agreed that the place was hot and the music was amazing.

Which meant he'd already been there.

Kurt hated it immediately.

They could hear the music pounding from the subway turn-stall, and the line to get in wrapped almost completely around the building. Of course, DeLeon blew by the line and managed to get them through the ropes, even kissing the cheeks of the bouncers at the entrance. The trio barely walked through the doors when they were mobbed by six extremely handsome, astonishingly well-built men, all with perfect teeth and flawless skin.

"Why don't I fly more often?" Kurt murmured, sure no one could hear him over the pulsating music, but it seemed DeLeon did, shoving Kurt headlong into the throng of men and leading the way out onto the dance floor.

Three songs into the evening and Kurt's shirt clung to his back as he danced, his entire body loosening up, more carefree and easy than he had been all week. He could almost pretend that this was a normal night out and that he was free of his feelings for Blaine, but his enjoyment dimmed every time he caught a glimpse of Blaine and DeLeon grinding together, their hands all over each other, lost in their own little world.

Kurt remembered that world.

He missed that world.

"I think I'm going to sit this one out, boys," Kurt smirked, trying not to break into a gallop in his need to be away from Blaine.

But the universe rarely ever works in Kurt's favor.

No sooner did he make his way to a booth then DeLeon slid in beside him, lips curled in an unreadable, devilish grin.

"Leaving the dance floor so soon?" he purred. "The party's just getting started."

"Yeah, well, I think I overdid it a bit," Kurt said, eyes rising from the DeLeon's wicked smile to lock with Blaine's honeyed eyes, wide and full of concern.

"Why don't I get us some drinks?" he offered, resting a hand on DeLeon's shoulder and squeezing gently. Kurt's eyes followed that hand, felt the squeeze on his own skin, and swallowed hard.

"No thanks," Kurt said, eyes darting away.

"I'll have a rum and coke," DeLeon said, putting a hand over Blaine's and patting lightly.

Blaine's eyes left Kurt's face and looked down into DeLeon's.

"You've got it," he said with a wink, and with one last pause to see if Kurt would change his mind, turned away from the table and headed off to the bar.

DeLeon watched him go.

When he turned back to Kurt, the mischievous glint was still there in his eyes, but the expression on his face was much more serious.

"When are you going to tell that man that you still love him?" DeLeon asked, cutting to the chase.

Kurt sat straight up, jerking back in his seat.

"Excuse me?" he hissed.

DeLeon rolled his eyes, looking far too done with this conversation already.

"I see you," DeLeon said, tapping his temple for emphasis. "I see you watch us. If you think you're hiding anything, you're mistaken."

Kurt chuckled viciously.

"You're delusional."

DeLeon slid in closer, and Kurt fought the urge to slide further away.

"Now, you see, I really want to like you," DeLeon said, "but when you say things like that, you make it really hard. Now, usually I'd call you out for being a bitch, but seeing as you probably wouldn't even be in this situation if your boy Blaine hadn't cheated on you, I'm going to let it slide."

Kurt's eyes swept the club and found Blaine still at the bar waiting for the drinks.

"But I know that face," DeLeon continued. "Fuck, I've even _worn_ that face."

DeLeon's eyes followed Kurt's where they rested on Blaine's back, his eyes softening, deciding on a different tactic.

"Or maybe I'm wrong," DeLeon shrugged. "And maybe you're just staring at his ass."

Kurt's head snapped so quickly back to face the giggling man beside him that he was sure he pulled something.

"Yup, that boy has a fine ass," DeLeon drawled, watching Kurt's reaction carefully. Just as he suspected, Kurt's shoulders tightened, his back went rigid, and his jaw clenched. "Too bad I didn't get the chance to see it."

Kurt's face morphed from disgust to confusion in the blink of an eye.

"But…he's been spending every night this week at your place," Kurt sputtered. "I thought you two were…"

"Well, the first night he came over I tried," DeLeon admitted. "Lord knows I tried. But he stopped me before I could do anything…" DeLeon grimaced at the memory, "…and I was _so_ close, too."

"So…what did happen?" Kurt asked, hating that he was actually curious…and relived.

"He said he was sorry and asked if we could just be friends. And seeing as I'm leaving for London and then God knows where after that for a few months, I decided it was probably for the best."

Kurt shut his eyes, trying his best to put the pieces of this puzzle together, especially after what he had seen of their behavior with his own eyes.

"So, what's he been doing at your place?"

DeLeon shook his head, as if the answer was blaringly obvious and Kurt's denseness was far from amusing.

"Giving you space."

Kurt threw his hands up in frustration.

"I wish he would have just told me."

"No disrespect, man…" DeLeon thrummed his fingers on the table, "…but did you give him the chance?"

Kurt wanted to be angry at Blaine for lying about sleeping with DeLeon, but then he thought about the last few days of dodging and avoiding Blaine like he would the plague or a Sears department store. His cheeks pinked with embarrassment and a touch of anger. It was one thing for him to recognize his own shortcomings, but quite another to have his ex's current sort-of platonic fling shove it in his face.

"Wh—"

"Now before you get all high-pitched on me, no, he didn't say anything," DeLeon said with a smirk, his arms raised in defense. "I just happen to know a thing or two about being irrational and flying off the handle. I can get kind of high-pitchy, too."

Kurt nodded and smiled, his face relaxing even though he wasn't quite sure what any of this information would change between him and Blaine. What did Kurt really want? After all of this time working so hard to get over Blaine, did he really want to take him back? Did the story really end with the two of them together?

Kurt's smile became tight again when another thought clouded his mind.

"So, what about all the grinding and touching and all the little kisses between the two of you?" Kurt railed on, becoming high-pitchy anyway.

DeLeon waved a dismissive hand.

"So, I took a few liberties. Can you blame me? Look at him. He's gorgeous… but you already know that."

Kurt did look up at the man walking towards their table, eyes trained solely on him, as if he were the center of the known universe…and probably a few others as well.

DeLeon sighed.

"Unfortunately for me he's all yours."

Blaine set the drinks down on the table, sliding a glass of clear, bubbly liquid overflowing with cherries down in front of Kurt.

"I know you said you didn't want anything," Blaine said, "but I thought, you look hot…I mean _flushed_, and just in case you changed your mind…"

DeLeon took his rum and coke and sipped it, realizing just how quickly he had disappeared from Blaine's notice.

"Look," he said, sliding back out from the booth, "I don't mean to drink and run, but I've got an early morning. I think I'm going to bow out now."

Blaine turned to watch him stand from the booth, his shame at ignoring the man of the hour apparent in the way his mouth stopped working.

"B-but, DeLeon…" Blaine stuttered. "I'm sorry if I…"

DeLeon put a hand over Blaine's lips and shushed him. He gazed deep into Blaine's warm, apologetic eyes and leaned in close, kissing him gently on the lips. Kurt's drink suddenly became very interesting and he glued his eyes to it, counting the cherries in an effort not to burn holes into DeLeon's skull.

Why should he be jealous of a little kiss if he wasn't even sure that he wanted Blaine back?

Though, the way his heart seized up at the idea of Blaine kissing DeLeon back pretty much answered that question for him.

DeLeon pulled away from Blaine's lips, sparing a glance at Kurt, currently staring down his drink as if the cherries were marked for death.

"I think it's time you fixed this, don't you?" DeLeon whispered, then with one final hug walked off into the crowd, disappearing completely from view.

"You know, come to think about it, I should probably call it a night, too." Kurt slid out of the booth from the opposite end, hoping not to disturb Blaine whose eyes looked blankly into the crowd as if trying to summon the gorgeous man back. Kurt was confused how DeLeon could assume that Blaine only wanted Kurt when he seemed quite smitten for the sage young man who just left. Kurt headed off into the crowd in a different direction but a hand grabbing his stopped him.

"No, don't go," Blaine pleaded softly, his voice somehow managing to rise above the din, even with Kurt's back turned.

Kurt sighed, deflating almost completely. Blaine's body was pressed against his now, not overbearing or aggressive, just the warmth of his presence making itself known.

"Blaine," Kurt started, not sure what he wanted to say, hoping the words would come as soon as he opened his mouth and that he would actually mean most of them.

"Dance with me?" Blaine dared an arm around Kurt's waist. "Please? Just…just once before you go?"

Kurt felt himself melting into Blaine's arm, molding against his body, and it frightened him. It would be just this simple, wouldn't it? To fall back together, but what would that mean?

He thought about it as he followed Blaine out onto the dance floor, as he let himself be wrapped into his arms, and swayed with him to music that didn't quite match their beat since it pounded through the floor like a rainstorm and they glided along together like a breeze. Somewhere amidst the list of pros and cons he tried to outline in his head, all the reasons he had _for_ getting back together and for _not_ getting back together, he could hear the occasional _'I'm sorry'_…

_'I love you…'_

_'I'll do anything…'_

_'Anything you want…'_

_'I'll even move out…'_

_'Just please say we get to be boyfriends again…'_

Kurt felt shy, tentative lips press against his neck, trying hard to get his attention, begging for an answer.

"Alright, you colossal pain in the ass!" Kurt groaned, feeling the smile on Blaine's lips grow against his skin. "Alright! I can't believe we're doing this again! But we're doing it my way. We're taking it slow. Do you understand?"

He got a giddy chuckle and Blaine's lips eagerly claiming his as an answer.

* * *

It was 3 a.m., and it was hot…not really considering it was winter, but in the loft, specifically in Blaine's tiny bedroom, the air was sweltering.

Kurt moved over Blaine's body with deliberate slowness, pushing in deep, drawing out every low, long moan he possibly could from the man who writhed beneath him, sweat traveling in rivulets down his spine.

"God, I missed this," Blaine growled, his voice rough, his body burning. He arched up to meet Kurt when he pushed in again, deeper this time as if such a thing were even possible, but somehow Kurt found a way. Kurt met Blaine's mouth with his and kissed him hard, sucking his top lip between his teeth and biting to hear Blaine whine and feel him shudder. "At least we're not drunk this time," he continued when Kurt pulled away.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, smirking down at Blaine's hopelessly debauched expression, "but so much for taking things slow."


End file.
